


Luck, Be A Lady With Me

by planchette



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Chess, Consensual Sex, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Meet-Cute, Sexy Ace, Vaginal Sex, strip chess?? maybe??, you will learn something about chess here maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:26:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26590600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planchette/pseuds/planchette
Summary: Time was dead here, but the two of you had become close during your growing number of meetings for chess. You enjoyed Ace and his company, and it secretly elated you to know he felt the same.You could feel your stubbornness melting away as his hands drifted down your shoulders and to your waist, and by the first kiss you couldn’t even remember why you had resisted for so long.
Relationships: Ace Visconti/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	1. Guess I'm Lucky That Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ace is annoying in a cute way.

Ace Visconti was intent on getting to know you, whether you wanted him to or not.

It had started when you had a particularly bold match against Ghostface, easily pallet stunning him and scoring points for your team; everyone escaped, and even Dwight had been impressed with your leadership skills. When you returned to the campfire there had been a wooden traveling chess set with your name on it. It was a gift from the Entity, a relic from your old life.

Your affair with competitive chess had begun when your strident immigrant father decided straight A’s weren’t enough and that any nine year-old child of his would be excellent in their extracurricular hobbies too. You had rejected the game at first, longing instead to ride bikes with your friends or catch bugs in the yard; but out of respect for your father, every day after school and on Saturday mornings you bussed to the local community center where you trained in a junior chess league. When you would greet your dad at home-the two of you eating silently at a table too large for a single father and his child- he would talk about work and how confusing American culture and this new life could be. You would dutifully listen as he easily transitioned between English and Spanish, now too American to speak only Spanish but still too Chilean to leave Spanish behind. When he would ask you about your day and how chess club went, you would smile and only tell him about the good things in an effort to not disappoint him. 

The wooden chess set had been a Christmas gift from your father one year after you had begun playing: he had paid a _tio_ of yours to assemble the box with pull-out drawers to store the pieces inside when you weren’t playing. The tiny figurines that represented the king, queen, etc. were intricately carved with superb detail. Your _Tio_ Gabriel was an artist and it showed; the best part of the chess set was the engraving of your name along the side in old Gothic script, lightly dusted with gold leaf for added flair. That chess kit went on every family vacation with your dad, as he drilled you in chess strategy sitting beside you on a plane, on a bus, or at the wheel of a car. Nothing made him happier than to see you see succeed at what he thought was your passion.

No one could have blamed you when you started cheating.

When the chess set arrived in the Fog before you and your teammates they all looked at you with recognition; none of them knew about your prestige as a chess competitor, but clearly as they could read your name on the box they knew the object belonged to you.

‘What is it?’ Dwight had asked, always the first to make a decision for the group.

You unfolded the box in front of them and they _ooh’ed_ and _ahh’ed_ as the compartments were emptied of their pieces and the board was set up for a game. You smiled in spite of yourself, the chess set finally a welcome sight to you; after all the unfamiliar and strange things that happened in the Fog, it was nice to have something that made sense.

Just like muscle memory, you easily destroyed Meg in less than ten moves. Against Dwight, you beat him in two moves. Jake had been observing, wide-eyed at your incredible skill; before long a small crowd of survivors had gathered around you and Jake as you played another match. Jake obviously had more familiarity with the game than Meg or Dwight, countering your moves easily. You glanced at him and he smirked so you decided to take a more aggressive approach, to no avail as he continued to play surprising moves,

‘So, how long did you play?’ you asked casually, mentally devising ways to win the game. Jake smiled warmly,

‘Pretty much since I was a toddler; rich people, you know? They all want their kids to play chess. What a cliché,’ he rolled his eyes as he took out your bishop, tallying the piece alongside the growing graveyard of your pieces he had collected. Reverting to old habits, you distracted Jake with some small talk as you rearranged a few pieces on the table in an attempt to salvage the remainder of this game in your favor. If one wasn’t paying close attention, pawns and bishops looked quite similar although their impact was very different. The average bystander wouldn’t have bat an eye, unable to detect the slight movement.

Ace wasn’t the average bystander.

After you had robbed Jake and Steve of all their luck offerings, you decided to hang your hat up for the night and head to the cabins for some well-earned shut-eye. It reminded you of being a teen again; playing the rich kids out of their allowances so you could bring home more money to your father. You left the sore losers behind to wallow in their defeat and you could feel the bounce in your step as you walked away; it had been a while since you stretched the particular set of muscles you built during your chess career, and it felt kinda good.

‘Nice game,’ Ace said from a chair in front of one of the cabins where he sat. You nodded at him with a small wave,

‘Thanks, I used to compete.’

‘Oh no, not _that_ game,’ Ace said with a grin, ‘The one where you scammed those unsuspecting boys out of all their good shit.’

You sucked in a breath, ready to give this guy a piece of your mind before he interjected,

‘No, no, I’m not gonna tattle. In fact, I guess you could call me a new fan of your work.’

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment but you tried to remain composed as you attempted to get this guy off your ass,

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ you said with an edge to your voice, continuing down the road to the cabin you normally inhabited. You could hear Ace’s good-natured laugh behind you,

‘Can’t fool me, gorgeous.’

You ignored the way your stomach flipped at the compliment.

The next time you saw Ace was in the trials, shooting finger guns in your direction as the Huntress brained him in the back of the head with one of her axes. He grinned at you stupidly from blood loss when you later lifted him off the hook,

‘Long time no see, you naughty thing,’ he slurred while gripping your shoulders for support. Even as he inched closer to passing out, he remained devilishly handsome. He looked like he could’ve been Rhett Butler’s understudy in _Gone with the Wind_ (a film you loved for its cinematography but watched only once because oh my god it was _so racist_ ) or ready to face you at your window screaming _‘Stellaaaaaaa!’_

He was hot in an old world charm sort of way- and dying fast.

‘C’mon, you heavy _pendejo_ ,’ you grimaced as you heaved his arm over your shoulder and began carrying the two of you toward a hiding place close by. He frowned,

‘Hey, I know what that means,’ he grumbled, followed by a few short hiccup-y giggles _. Man, the Huntress must have gotten him good,_ you thought to yourself as you hoisted his slipping weight back onto you. After completing the short journey to safety you tossed him onto a soft patch of dirt and kneeled beside him, throwing open the lid of the medkit you scrounged up earlier in the match. It was stocked well, but contained nothing special: Just basic necessities of alcohol, gauze pads, and bandages. When you began addressing his wounds, Ace raised his eyebrows before whistling,

‘Well hello, nurse,’ he cheekily said, ‘turns out you’ve got more talents than just sleight of hand.’

You smiled sarcastically back at him, no longer worrying about whether you were gentle as you wrapped bandages around his shoulder where he had been pierced by the hook,

‘Is it really so bad if you’re just stealing from rich white fuckboys?’ you countered coolly, eyes focused on healing your teammate. You grabbed the second roll of gauze from the kit and slowly took the signature ball cap off of Ace’s head, reveling in the pained groan he let out,

‘Fair point,’ he sighed as you began wrapping his hat-dented hair in gauze. He was breathing hard through his nostrils trying to void out the pain, but still kept his signature smirk on his face. Whether it was for your sake or his, you weren’t sure.

‘So when did you start?’ he asked casually, and you cocked an eyebrow at him with confusion. He continued, ‘When did you realize you couldn’t afford to lose anymore?’

Ah okay, so he was talking about the scamming again. You decided to be honest with him, knowing his own history,

‘When I realized that a poor brown girl with a single immigrant dad who’s not fluent in English wouldn’t make it very far in the United States without a little luck,’ you grimaced, ‘genuine luck or otherwise.’

He grimaced back empathetically, as you completed the messy healing job. You had deft hands when it came to making games work in your favor, but that didn’t extend to first aid. You helped him to his feet and he let out a tired groan; Ace quickly shot you a weary look,

‘This place ain’t great, but be glad you don’t have to get old, kid.’

You scowled at him, ‘Ace, you have no idea how old I am. Maybe you’re just out of shape.’

He laughed at the easy jab and your severe expression melted away at the sound. The two of you walked carefully to the closest generator overlooking the swamp where you had found Ace moments ago. You crouched and set to work immediately, confused by how slow the progress was when two people were working toge-

A loud rustling sound beside you notified you that Ace had not been helping after all, but had in fact been searching a nearby chest. He grinned lazily as he scooped up a key with a small charm tied to it,

‘Gotcha,’ he muttered to the small item. You rolled your eyes right in front of him when he returned at last to help you work on the generator. In the distance, you could hear Quentin get downed by the Huntress for the last time this match; a wretched black claw spiraled down from the sky from where the sound had emitted. Something in your stomach soured and you knew that Quentin had died.

‘Fuck, we’re not getting out,’ you said anxiously; you still had four generators to complete and based on the dull shriek nearby the Huntress must have found Claudette. Ace frowned at your pessimism,

‘You don’t know that, we could turn this thing around-‘

Claudette scream filled the arena as she too died on hook. You raised your eyebrows at Ace pointedly over the sputtering lights of the generator,

‘You were saying?’

‘Our luck still hasn’t run out,’ he said defiantly, crouching down and focusing on soldering small wires back together. You could hear the Huntress’ foreboding song growing in volume when the generator burst to life with power. Ace grabbed your hand and pulled the two of you into a nearby bush.

‘What are you doing? We have to go-‘you argued, yanking your arm away from him but he held you firmly in his grasp,

‘Would you just be quiet for a moment?’ he said frustrated, ‘I’m trying to save our backsides.’

Using her keen senses, the Huntress had heard the quick exchange and loudly trudged in your direction,

‘Okay let’s go,’ Ace muttered as he dragged you toward the opposite end of the map. Ignoring his hypocrisy and feeling only the harsh pounding of your heart against your ribs you ran with him blindly into the night.

A rogue hatchet whirred past your ear, causing you to shriek and shrink further into Ace for protection. The two of you continued to run, zig-zagging through obstacles at breakneck speed. You thought you had imagined it when Ace said,

‘Teach me to play chess and I’ll let you escape!’

‘What?’ you cried back at him, and he pointed at the closed hatch you were barreling toward. You recalled the key in his pocket and you could have killed him from how fucking _lucky_ he turned out to be,

‘Teach me to play chess and I’ll let you escape,’ he was panting over the closed hatch and you shook with rage,

‘Now? _Now??_ You want to talk about chess? _Open the fucking hatch, Ace,’_

The Huntress’ humming only grew louder in volume as Ace stared at you behind cheap sunglasses with an expectant expression.

‘Fine, I’ll teach you!’ You shouted, and Ace smiled as he slid the skeleton key into the lock on the hatch. The hatch swung open easily and Ace grabbed your hand as you both leapt into to the howling pit of darkness,

‘It’s a date,’ you thought you heard him say but it was unclear because suddenly everything was dark and soft.


	2. How Lucky Can One Guy Be?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly? Ace could do this all day.

‘Okay now when you said this was a long con I didn’t think you meant _this_ long,’ Ace said, overwhelmed by the differences between all the chess pieces and their functions. You sighed in irritation not because he didn’t understand but because wow this guy was terribly impatient.

‘In time you will understand my teachings, young padawan,’ you said with a serious tone, ‘But for now I need you to shut the fuck up and run the drills.’

Ace scoffed and returned his gaze to the board, adjusting his hat as he awaited further instruction. You led him through a few basic plays, later intimidating him by introducing strange terms like _trebuchet_ , Queen’s Gambit, and _en passant_. He narrowed his eyes behind his signature shades and followed to the best of his ability, interrupting you only a few times to ask clarifying questions. At one point he may have even cracked a joke that made you laugh but you tried not to notice the satisfied goofy grin on his stupid face.

Once Ace listened to you with focus he caught on quickly, introducing surprising plays that you mentally noted to write down for later. He lifted his dark glasses to rub his tired eyes and you tried to sneak a peek at what lay underneath; he moved too fast and you missed your opportunity, internally shaming yourself at how disappointed you felt about not knowing what color Ace’s eyes were. After a few hours of solid instruction and practice he was almost pleasant to be around, not so focused on learning your entire life story and instead on the game. You weren’t sure why he was so interested in you in the first place, but it was nice to play chess here and there to interrupt the endless cycle of anxiety and murder.

Yeah, that’s the only reason you were here anyway; for the chess, and to settle your debt to Ace for saving you in that match. This is what you kept telling yourself until you realized one night by the campfire-your signature set settled between the two of you as your knees occasionally bumped against each other-that you had been meeting with him for lessons the past eight times the chess set appeared at the fire.

Now Ace kept pace with you, easily countering your moves considering he had learned from the best. Sometimes if your mind was elsewhere or if you were more tired than usual, he would even win a few matches. The way he took immense pleasure in those victories was an endearing sight to say the least; Ace struck you as the kind of guy who didn’t care what anyone thought about him, but it was clear he wanted you to like him.

‘Penny for your thoughts, angel?’ Ace asked, making a strong but predictable move across the board. You met his gaze, feeling suddenly incredibly warm and flustered from his direct attention; after clearing your throat, you tried your best to direct your attention back to the game,   
  
‘I would tell you if I had any,’ you lied, sliding your rook into place and checkmating him at last. He swore under his breath, resisting the urge to slap the set apart like he had done previously when he lost. It had been a knee-jerk reaction on his part but you had calmly explained to him that if he didn’t stop doing that you were going to stop the lessons, and so the destruction stopped almost instantaneously. Instead he slowly and meticulously reset the board, aligning the pieces in their correct position for another match. He didn’t ask you anymore if you would be up to playing another round with him; the two of you had an established routine, an order of operations to follow each time the board appeared. Thirteen games, no matter who was calling the shots, the two of you always inevitably played thirteen games.  
  
‘Lucky thirteen,’ he said with a twinge of remorse as he set up the board for the last time this evening. You attempted to suffocate your own feelings of disappointment about the fun coming to an end for the night. The more time you spent with Ace, the more you could see him being someone you wanted around more; and if you wanted him around more then you two would get closer, and if you two got closer then he could bail on you like so many others had before him and you were not willing to do that again.  
  
You breathed deeply once, beginning the match with aggressive and advanced moves. Ace hadn’t been expecting the drastic change your play style and couldn’t keep up despite his every attempt to do so. You were cruel and withholding in the way you played, seeing the ideas materialize in his mind and stomping them out before he could even begin. A testament to your success, the game didn’t last very long at all. There was a deafening silence as Ace stared down at the war-torn battlefield of the board, his own expression steeling as he figured out your game-within-the-game.  
  
‘I can take a hint,’ he said coolly, ‘See you around, kid.’

‘Wait no-‘you started, already nauseated with guilt but Ace wasn’t interested in your words,

‘Stop it. Seriously, kid? You of all people should know you can’t scam a scammer.’  
  
He stood up abruptly and left the campfire, heading back in the direction of the cabins. Maybe Bill or someone would be back there to share a drink or a cigarette with and drown in some sorrow, you didn’t know and decided to shove the image of disappointed Ace from your mind. Ultimately, you were making the best decision for both of you: There was no room for crushes and tenderness in the Fog. _Not that I have a crush or anything_ , you thought, he was just going to be something fun to pass the time. Inevitably, you were human and like all humans starved for physical touch and human kindness, you were getting lonely.  
  
You had been a loner in life; So much of your existence had been one of independence and responsibility, translating for your father when you went out in public and doing whatever you could on the down low to get enough cash for the month’s rent. There wasn’t much time for friends, much less boyfriends; you had one close friend, a boy who lived in the apartment next door. The two of you talked every day after school until time to return to your parents in the evening. After seven years of being neighbors, you still didn’t know his name. You weren’t much for friendliness.  
  
And yet, there was just something about continually being pursued by serial killers in an endless nightmare that changed your tune. As if controlled by a supernatural force you stood up to chase after Ace, knocking the chess set to the ground; the pieces went flying in wild directions as you jogged to catch up with him,

‘Wait!’ you shouted at him and he spun around, eyebrows knit in irritation. You slowed down, ready to try and piece together your thoughts for him when he sighed exasperatedly,

‘God, woman, you’re so anxious I feel like I can feel you worrying from here.’

‘What?’ you replied, confused by his outburst. Ace sighed again and closed the distance between the two of you, lightly squeezing your shoulders as he said,

‘Stop playing games! I know that sounds odd coming from me, but I’m serious. I’ve done this too many times before and well- now we’re stuck in purgatory and I don’t have time for that shit anymore. I’m too old and too tired, but I’m still a good catch. So, I guess I’ll be blunt: I like you, and I think you like me too. Does it have to be more complicated than that?’

Did it have to be more complicated than that?

Time was dead here, but the two of you had become close during your growing number of meetings for chess. You enjoyed Ace and his company, and it secretly elated you to know he felt the same.

You could feel your stubbornness melting away as his hands drifted down your shoulders and to your waist, and by the first kiss you couldn’t even remember why you had resisted for so long.

Getting to the cabin site was difficult while also trying to frantically kiss Ace and access any part of him you could, but somehow the two of you managed and made it to one of the cots inside. He was passionate but steady with his touch, grumbling a bit as he struggled to get the tight jeans off your hips. You laughed at his irritation and he claimed he could listen to your laugh forever. It was a cheesy sentiment, but one you took graciously as Ace grazed his mouth over your left nipple- you sighed into the sensation, enjoying the way his stubble tickled the soft skin around it. He kissed your breast again, palming the other in time; before long when he moved a hand down to your sex, he could feel you were sufficiently aroused,

‘Oh my God, you’re incredible,’ he sighed into your neck, hurriedly tugging at his jeans so that he could be inside of you. You flushed with embarrassment,

‘You’re silly.’

‘What’s silly is how long this took,’ he groaned as he entered you easily, looking at you to make sure you were okay. After you confirmed you were indeed okay he slowly pumped himself in and out, savoring the little sounds of pleasure you made with each thrust. Fighting the habitual urge to close your eyes during sex, you opened them because you vaguely remembered throwing off Ace’s hat and glasses in the flurry of motion to get to the bed. Ace quickened his pace, your back arching as the two of you caused the tiny cot to shake; he moaned loudly into your mouth as he closed in on his orgasm, rolling his hips into yours again and again. Your breath hitched and you clenched inside when your climax finally struck, Ace following you shortly afterward and carelessly releasing his seed inside. He rested his damp forehead against your own as you attempted to catch your breath.

‘Shit, I’m sorry,’ he said, chuckling as he removed his softening cock and readjusted his clothing; you couldn’t help but laugh along because did that even matter anymore? Ace swooped in for another kiss, confused when you broke it a few moments later to look at him up close in earnest:

 _Hazel,_ you thought to yourself with the intention of never forgetting. _His eyes are hazel._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> something lil and cute for you all!! Ace is a sweet and caring grumpy man
> 
> stay safe, and be well x


End file.
